


Of Magnolias and Catkins

by Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl



Category: Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi | Spirited Away, Studio Ghibli - Fandom
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship/Love, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-23 01:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl/pseuds/Quixotic_Quetzalcoatl
Summary: As the years passed by, her memories of the spirit world mingled with the forgotten, as a dream she couldn’t quite remember and a melody she couldn’t quite recall. Even as the face of her beloved faded from view in her mind, she always remained hopeful that she would meet him again. And if he wasn’t coming to her, then she was going to remedy the situation. Chihiro’s plan was eight years in the making and it was finally ready for launch.*Accompanying art coming in later chapters.*





	1. The Tides of Time

The sweet fragrance of magnolias lingered on the breeze, as the horizon gently siphoned away the crimson light of dusk. The kiss of summer’s warmth, the dark drench of eternal rest, and the vibrant light of life swirled around her, intangible and formless, as she sat straddled between two worlds, ever hopeful, ever watchful. She had returned every year on the anniversary of their meeting to catch even a glimpse of him, yet he remained as elusive as the shifting twilight shadows. Chihiro was now eighteen and leaving for college in the next year. As the years wore on, her resolve remained as steadfast as her love. Time passed fluidly and quickly, like fallen willow catkins too swiftly swept along swollen rivers, though it was often ground to a halt by the unremittant ache of longing. 

Years ago, as strident subway voices vied for her attention, she thought she momentarily caught sight of him, pensive and lonesome on a passing platform. He caught her glance then, and gifted her with an elated smile. Many months later at a splendidly elegant mid-autumn festival, another fleeting glimpse of an unmistakable shock of viridian hair passed too quickly ahead of her. Desperately she called to him, but as he turned to the sound of her voice, she had already been displaced by the throngs of bedazzled festival goers. 

He, too, thought unceasingly of the love that so strenuously sought to save his life and unshackle his bondage. Never could he forget the gentle beckoning of her voice that called him from the shadows. And he would never forsake her, if only he could find her again. As the fallow fields of fate would have it, he returned every year on the anniversary of their farewell, ever hopeful, ever watchful.


	2. Chirpy Companions

Chihiro paced back and forth in her new room, as she periodically peered out of her bedroom window overlooking a vast expanse of hillside trees rustling in the wind. There was a lingering musty smell that hung in the humid summer air, as she ran her fingers over the weather-worn window sill. The droning chirping of summer cicadas resonated on the wind and echoed her loneliness. It had been a few days since her escape from the spirit world, and it was disquieting how quickly her parents were able to resume the status quo. It was as if it never happened. As she clutched her glimmering violet hairband, she realized with a downcast heart that no one would ever believe her, least of all her parents, who were perpetually pragmatic and rigidly unimaginative. 

How would Kohaku find her? Her spirits fell further in acknowledging the difficulty of the task. There were hundreds of thousands of people in this prefecture alone; the probability of finding her was tremendously slim. He did not know her family name. Why didn’t she tell him her family name?! The distress she felt at her own carelessness in that moment caused her to cast herself dejectly onto her bed. As she rolled over onto her back and gazed absentmindedly at the imperfections in the ceiling, she jolted upright with sudden inspiration. Was there may be a way of bringing him to her? She sighed. She had no clout as a ten year old. Her parents were not famous and she had no access to television or radio announcements. Newspaper? Did he even have access to newspapers? She hopped off her bed and began pacing again. She did not have the money to purchase an advertisement in the papers. She wished desperately that time would speed up so she could be older. 

Her mind wandered to the way her teacher reprimanded her for daydreaming. Another epiphany. She could never make waves as a mediocre student. Until now, school was disinteresting to her. It stifled her creativity and failed to compel her heart. But now she had a calling. And now she had an idea. She quickly pulled out a note pad and from memory, began transcribing her adventures to the best of her recollection. For the remainder of the school year, she was going to work as hard as she could. She smiled to herself. After all, hard work at school paled in comparison to the ordeal she just endured.


	3. The Lingua Franca of Loss

As he reclaimed the power of his name and threw off the dense fog of subjugation and stolen surrender, Kohaku fled the presence of that hideous, sinister sorceress. The wellspring of happiness that should have filled his being was quelled instead by the anger rising in his chest. He didn’t even know where he was going, he was simply fleeing the horrid woman who had cheated him out of so many years of his life. His beautiful and tortured serpentine form thrashed with fury through the hushed heliotrope skies of a midsummer’s dusk. There was a warmth that suddenly beckoned him in from the cold of dread that seized him and he fell toward the gentle light, crashing into the soft ground. Panting, breathless with regret and besieged by anger, he shook the dirt and detritus from himself. The fragrance of magnolia blooms and the babbling of a nearby brook served to finally calm his battered senses. His quieted heart now thought of the love that so selflessly saved him and he exhaled deeply. He needed to find her again.

His powers were severely weakened and he didn’t know why. He knew they had been suppressed by Yubaaba but now that he was liberated, they should no longer be under her control. He couldn’t even assume his original form. As he anxiously paced about, a familiar voice greets him and he freezes. 

“No need to be on edge, my child,” Zeniba says warmly. “Welcome back.”

“Greetings, Zeniba-sama,” he replies after a moment of hesitation, having briefly mistaken her for her sister. He bows formally to her. 

“Now, it seems you are troubled. Come in, come in and have some tea with us. And no need for such formalities. Just call me Zeniba.”

Kohaku had settled for his child-like form, and as his scales fell away from him like the shedding of sakura blossoms, he graciously followed his host.


	4. What’s In a Name?

The flickering amber glow of the spritely lantern and the lonesome picturesque cottage had a whimsical feel he didn’t quite recall from his previous visits. Kohaku was greeted by No Face as he entered, and slowly took stock of his serendipitous surroundings: the quaint spinning wheel, the rustic hearth, the modest furnishings. He realized he hadn’t fully appreciated the polarity of preference between the two sorceresses and was amused to recall the gaudy, garish embellishments of her twin. 

“Please help yourself to some biscuits and pastries while I put on the tea, child.”

As he offered his thanks, he felt it a bit unconventional to be referred to as a child. He may not have been as ancient as many of the other gods, but he was a god nonetheless. Absentmindedly tracing his fingers over the polished wood grain of the table and watching No Face contentedly spin yarn from the spinning wheel, he sighed deeply. Solving the mystery behind his loss of faculty was paramount and he did not wish to waste too much time here. Nevertheless, he politely accepts a biscuit No Face excitedly offers him.

“Now, what is it that concerns you so, that you would wrench yourself so wretchedly from flight and fling yourself upon my doorstep?” Zeniba asks with a knowing grin as she offers him a cup of tea.

“I wish to understand why my powers remain so constrained.”

“Are you certain that is all?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember who you are?”

“Well, yes of course I do now. It was how I was able to free myself from Yubaaba’s bondage over me.”

“No, I do not refer to your name, dear. I am asking who you are. Or more precisely, what you are. What is your purpose here, and where did you come from?”

“Yes, of course, I...” he paused and furrowed his brows. He was drawing a blank. He assumed that his memory lapse during his imprisonment was because of it. 

“So, you can’t remember. Let me tell you something, my child. I am very old and I have seen many ages pass. There has never been a time where spirits and mortals have been separated in such a manner. We are being forgotten. And with each passing day, our ties to each other grow weaker. Your life is tied not just to this world, but to both. Find out who you are, dear, and you will also find the answers you seek.”

“But how do I do that?”

“The answers are already within. Find your ties to both worlds. Rediscover your origin. If you need to seek refuge, my home is always open.”

As he bowed low and expressed his gratitude, he knew exactly where he needed to go next. There was a summer festival in town and he was going to have to eat some human food if he was to maintain his form long enough to do some research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you kindly for the kudos so far! Just in the middle of writing 3 series right now, so the turnaround is slower than usual. The other two are wrapping up soon, and will hopefully allow more time for some art. Cheers, everyone. :)


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